


Marching to an Old, Familiar Tune

by Kabal42



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: D/s, Face-Fucking, Historical Roleplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Military Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabal42/pseuds/Kabal42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A themed costume party and two men in uniforms, a dark back garden and a score to settle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marching to an Old, Familiar Tune

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "historical roleplay" square in Kink Bingo.   
> Thanks to CalvinaHobbes for input and help.

"It is a little weird, though, don’t you think?" Carol’s voice broke through the light fog around Steve’s mind.

"Hm?" He gave her a questioning look, aware that he must have missed at least half of the point she had been making.

She smirked, shaking her head. "Damn, you are lost. Like a man in front of a work of art. Not that I truly blame you." Steve did not have to follow the direction of her gaze to know where she was looking - she had, after all, followed his. "What I was saying, though, is that it’s weird how much he can look like his father. Though at least he kept his own beard rather than go all in on the look."

"A lot of soldiers back then did have moustaches, though mostly the officers, and looking like he does would be very strange indeed. Unless you were a submariner, maybe…"

"All the wrong associations there," Carol said drily, and Steve grinned. 

"True. But to answer your question, yes and no. He doesn’t look that much like his father. Cursorily, yes, but you’ve never really met Howard Stark, have you?" Carol gave a curt shake of the head. "Well, I’d never mistake them for one another. The body language is very different, the way of holding themselves. Very different. Not to mention that I doubt Howard would have dressed up in period uniform for fun. Though it probably would have suited him." He turned away from the appealing image in front of him and regarded Carol, herself decked out in a slinky thing that harkened to the 20s, and looking absolutely stunning with her hair done up to match the deep green dress. She brought Steve in mind of ladies his mother had admired on the street when he was small, ladies he had himself looked at with admiring eyes. "Have I mentioned you look great by the way?"

"You haven’t. But thanks. And I’d like to return that compliment. I don’t know if you are aware of what your Captain’s uniform does to those of us who appreciate the male form, but without saying too much I can tell you it’s all good. Very good." She glanced towards Tony again, then met Steve’s eyes. "I don’t know how the hell you two keep your hands off each other. Or is he all rumpled because you can’t?"

Steve made a show of glancing around, avoiding being overheard, and whispered. "Trade secret."

Carol laughed, a lovely, full laugh, head thrown back, and Steve smiled, enjoying it to the fullest. Everyone was happy tonight, at least anyone he had seen or spoken to, and he was willing to let that count for enough. Looking around, he could see that Carol’s laughter had drawn attention and smiles, not least that of Tony. He was looking right at them, his eyes alight with a particular fire, one that started something deep in Steve’s belly.

"'Scuse me, miss," he said, winking as he saluted Carol, "I gotta go see a man about a uniform." There was a nigh-imperceptible widening of Carol’s pupils, and Steve knew she had caught on to just why Tony had chosen that particular outfit for his fancy dress party - and why the theme for it was _20s, 30s and 40s_.

Across the room, Tony clearly saw him coming, and when he turned away, glancing out the window, Steve knew they were on the same page. He straightened up a little more, carrying himself with the full weight of the uniform he was wearing. The moment he was close enough, his hand settled, heavy, comfortable, on Tony’s shoulder. "Soldier."

Tony spun, not enough to dislodge Steve’s hand, but enough to meet his eyes. "Captain. Having a pleasant evening, I hope?" He was speaking with a soft insecurity to his voice, uncharacteristic of his usually confident way of expressing himself. Steve felt a little hotter just for hearing it. 

"Quite. You, however, look like someone who has been enjoying himself too much." Steve’s hands found creases in Tony’s jacket to straighten, specks of dust to brush away - a little too firmly - all without ever breaking eye contact or changing his expression from the stern one he was wearing. Tony had made damn sure to break a few rules for proper uniform wear, so Steve was only just starting.

"I apologize, sir." The insecure not in Tony’s voice was closer to something husky now. 

"An apology won’t cut it, Stark." Steve’s hand was back on Tony’s shoulder, his grip firm, steering him, turning him away. "Walk with me." Not that Tony had much choice.

Around them the crowd parted, spread like water, and yet their presence made a lot of difference. The dress, the music, even the scents from the cocktails, all put Steve in mind of something that took place many years ago. A time that existed in his memory, though this exact chain of events were not some he had experienced before. 

Steve pushed Tony towards opened doors that led to the garden, and Tony walked without any complaint, not even any attempt at sidestepping, delaying or diverting Steve’s attention. Even his walk was different; his stride that of a man in uniform. 

The air outside was cooler, but the balmy air of autumn, the scent of dying leaves and late-blooming flowers mixing to create a melancholy perfume. Steve inhaled deeply, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of a New York summer night, though never wavering in his mission. Steps gradually getting louder as the sounds faded behind them, he marched Tony just far enough away from the house that the light from the windows no longer reached them. He stopped, abruptly enough that it put Tony off balance. Before he could find his footing, Steve had spun him. "And what exactly do you think you’re doing?"

"Uh…" Tony gaped, his mouth moving as if to defend himself, but no sound came. "I don’t understand," he finally managed. 

"You don’t understand what?"

"What you’re asking…" Tony’s voice betrayed doubt. Steve permitted himself a touch of a smile - Tony wouldn’t be able to see it yet - but only for a fraction of a second.

Steve made an exaggerated groan. "Save me from idiot privates… You don’t understand what, _soldier_."

"I don’t understand, sir." 

"Not a complete idiot then…" It might be dark, but Steve’s eyes were just good enough to see a darker shade appear on Tony’s cheeks. "There’s a war on, soldier, and you show up at a party with a lot of important civilians looking like a complete fucking mess. What kind of image do you think that gives us, hm? Inspiring confidence in the people who rely on us to keep the krauts away from our shores and japs from dropping bombs on us?"

The flush in Tony’s cheeks was now dark enough that Steve found it hard not to break character. He was very attractive like this, and for once exuded enough vulnerability that Steve wanted to hug him for that reason alone. "Sorry, sir." Tony hung his head, exaggerating the shameful look; it was just short of parody, and still rather endearing.

Steve took his chin, making him look up. "Like I said, kid, apologies won’t be enough this time. Not that kind of apologies at least."

"That kind? Sir?" Tony swallowed, nervous, and Steve could so easily imagine a scared rookie back then, thinking he’d be destined for the worst of the front lines when the invasion came. 

"I ought to rain some serious hell over you, but maybe we can work something out… between us…"

"Er, I’d be grateful in that case, sir."

"Ohyes, you would…!" 

This time Steve could hear the swallow very clearly. "What do you want, sir?"

"On your knees, soldier."

"Ah… wha-I… what?"

Steve leaned closer, hand behind his ear. "Again."

Tony actually whimpered. "What, sir?" 

"On your knees. Damn, man, you look like someone who just fucked in a back room. Might as well earn the look - and start making up for it at the same time."

Without another word, Tony sank to his knees. No prompting was needed, his hands found their own way to Steve’s belt, opening it, popping a button and undoing a zipper. There was only a moment of hesitation before Steve felt deft fingers work him out of his underpants. He wasn’t hard, but Tony was about to change that - very quickly, if Steve knew him. 

His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that when he looked down, he could clearly see Tony’s face. A bit of moonlight hitting the left side of Tony’s face was enough for him to get a pretty clear picture. The fact that all colors were gone in this low light only enhanced the feeling of another time and place. Steve felt himself harden before Tony had even done anything, simply from the force of the illusion. Sounds of the party drifted out to them, and the music changed to "Sunday, Monday or Always" just as Tony’s warm mouth closed around Steve’s dick.

"Good," Steve muttered, part to himself, part to the universe. Then added, for Tony’s benefit, "Go on, soldier." There was a soft moan in place of an answer. 

No matter how many times Tony sucked his dick, Steve never could get over how fucking good he was at it - probably because Tony loved doing it. Filthy good was what it was, the kind of good that should come with a warning about being highly addictive. Steve’s hand found its way to Tony’s hair, almost on its own, and closed in it; a light grip, allowing Tony to move as he wanted. 

Tony’s hands ran up Steve’s legs from his knees to his hips and settled, holding on, a sure sign he was about to get serious. Being ready for it meant that Steve had time to reach out with his free hand, finding a tree trunk to lean on. Just in time, because Tony did something and Steve was unable to suppress a groan. 

"Fuck… You’re an experienced little cocksucker, aren’t you?" he muttered, even now having no trouble with staying in character. The moan he felt vibrating through his dick was confirmation that Tony was every bit as into this as he was. "Mm. Maybe… ah… there’s a chance… you can work all your troubles away… like this…" 

The only reply he got was some filthy, perfect trick of Tony’s tongue that had him nearly buckle at the knees. "Bet you’d like that, queer boy," Steve mumbled once his body would respond again. Tony did it again and this time Steve’s hand closed painfully tight in his hair as he tried to keep his footing. The resulting whimper from Tony wasn’t as off-putting as it should have been, filled as it was with lust and need, though Steve quickly eased his hold again.

There was a sudden rush of cold air against his cock and Steve looked down, ready to bark at Tony. The sight that met him distracted him so thoroughly he completely forgot he could speak. Just how hot it was to see Tony like that, in that familiar style of uniform, lips red and wet from sucking cock, was a sight he wasn’t prepared for. 

"Or you could take what you want," Tony said, soft, only with a hint of a smile around his lips. Before Steve could find his voice again, Tony leaned in and sucked Steve’s dick in deep. 

"Ahh…." Steve’s head fell back, his hand closed in Tony’s hair again, and then it dawned on him what Tony had meant. He looked down, only to see the glint of eyes as Tony glanced up at him, tipping his head back. Steve shifted his grip, keeping Tony’s head back, and pushed. 

Tony went still, almost rigid, and his eyes shut while Steve’s dick slid down his throat. The sheer impact of what they were doing, the act of fucking Tony’s mouth, was enough that Steve felt the tightness in his balls that heralded the end of the show for his part. He bit his lip to stave it off and watched, rapt, as his cock slid in and out of Tony’s mouth, disappearing to the root with each push. The hurried gasps of breath from Tony when he pulled back, the shudder when he pushed in, all of it added to the rhythm of the act, driving Steve ahead like the pound of a train on rails - inevitably plunging towards the end. 

"Tony… fuck… Tony…" Steve was too far along now to care that he wasn’t supposed to use first names. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, expect this, having Tony. The hands gripping his hips tight dug fingertips even deeper, and Steve came. 

His ears were ringing, but he could still clearly hear the keening sound coming from Tony when Steve came in his mouth. 

It took Steve a few moments to get his bearings again, but when he could, he focused on Tony once more and pushed him back, gently. Looking down, he met darkened eyes, wide and shiny. "You look pretty like that," he muttered, reaching down to stroke his cheek. "Maybe I’ll even let you get off. You need to, don’t you?"

Tony nodded. "Yes, sir." His voice was husky, he was short of breath too. It was damn hot.

Steve smirked. "Right." He leaned back against the tree he’d been holding on to before, tucking himself back in. "Stay down there, and show me how you look when you come."

Slowly, very slowly, Tony opened his belt and fly. He had definitely not been lying about his need, he was as hard as Steve had ever seen him, and the moment his hand touched his cock, he was moaning. Steve had seen this particular show before, but he was not by any stretch of the concept tired of it. As Tony’s hand flew over his cock, Steve almost wished he had not just come. If he had been able to, he would have gone for another round. Tony took only a few minutes, then he was shuddering where he knelt, whimpering softly between clenched teeth. 

"Good show," Steve said, softly. "You can get up now." Tony did, slowly, brushing dirt off his knees. "That’s right, make sure that uniform is properly done this time." He kept his casual position by the tree while Tony made a great show of making sure everything was straightened, buttoned and in its proper place. 

"Is this good enough, sir?" He even turned so Steve could look. 

Steve sauntered a few steps closer, ran his hand down Tony’s back and over his ass. "You look fine." He gave Tony’s ass a slap. "We should get back to that party."

"Yes, sir." Tony started walking, but Steve caught him by the shoulder.

"And private. See me in my quarters later."

The smile was clearly audible when Tony answered. "Yes, sir."


End file.
